Home

Got a photo of me on a donkey. Finished San Diego (I mean, like, really finished it, yah know?), glimpsed at L.A. and tried to do what I do best in NYC. Man, what a place!

35 hours of travelling later, and I'm back home.

Have almost finished reading The Iraq Study Group Report. I wish these guys would write something about "how we got here" as well as their "where we go from here."

Lost a sock, heading to TJ

I lost a sock. Now I am faced with a great dilemma; chuck the remaining sock? Hmmm.....

On a high note, Tijuana tomorrow. Gotta go find me a donkey. And some cubans to smoke. Oh man, I am gagging for a decent cigar.

Stu's Travel Tip 2

Travel Tip 2. Catching a cab in the USA: When jockeying for the front seat in a taxi in America, don't call out "shotgun!" Over here it also means something quite different...

A list of things I experienced in San Diego

* Listening to Lazy Line Painter Jane by Belle and Sebastian.

* Smelling like apricots. Need to wash sometime.

* Watching cars race around the Gas-Light district in down-town San Diego.

* Tasting luke-warm coffee that is surprisingly decent.

* Sensing the cool air tickling my lower back. Need to pull my pants up sometime.

* Feeling... well... dunno. Contemplating negative probabilities.

Stu's Travel Tip 1

Airport lounges. The place where you should most feel like you are travelling, but most where you feel like you're getting no-where, and that time is being usurped from your life.

Travel tip 1. Getting through security;Either make sure your belt has no metal in it, or that your pants fit well.

I just don't get drunk with my father enough. I resolve in the New Year to do it more often. I might even take him out to a lovely little speak-easy and smoke a cuban cigar with him. Good times.

Miss my flatmates. Especially annoying them early in the morning.

I'm an anti-Jew!

I've been having way too much fun posting. Sure sure, I caused a bit (a lot?) of trouble, but I guess that's the freedom of the "intra-nerd" for you. Give any idiot a PC and suddenly he/she has got opinions. Case in point, me.

So obviously I copped a bit of flak, firstly for being an arsehole. Sure, I guess I wasn't going to let some idea stand for "the truth" without evidence. Or without intelligent, accurate dialogue, at least (don't come looking to me for that though!) .

But I'm just stubborn with my opinions, and I'm rather pedantic when it comes to supporting an argument with "facts." Heck, I'm a relativist; there ain't no objective truth, there is only beliefs, and strengths of argument.

But more interesting, there was a flippant remark I made. And it seems to have drawn quite a response. People have trundled out their old knee-jerk response, and let fly. I guess when one walks into a close-knit community and start to challenge the status quo, then ranks close.

Reminds me of a book by Philip Roth called The Human Stain. And that it holds an interesting and relative parable pertinent to my current situation.

You see, there is this English literature professor, who also happens to specialise in Ancient languages, such a Greek. And every day during class he does roll call. One day near the middle of the semester, he calls two names that he has been calling since the start of the year, and who have never been present. And he turns to the class and say "Who are these spooks ?"

And all hell brakes loose. Because not only is it a term describing "ghosts" or "spirits", it is also a racial slur against a black person. And, as the professor latter finds out, these two students not present were black.

So he has a law suit pressed against him, and he loses his job, his wife later dies and he is all alone. All because of a single word.

Spooks.

There are further twists to that story that I won't even mention; suffice to say, it allows the ideas of "racism" and of "anti-semitism" new interpretations.

Antisemitism.

Which American can read this article and not, at the least, have some wavering in their support for Israel?

I like Seinfield. Mad About You wasn't bad. Hell, I love Woody Allen. But if I don't agree with the the Israel lobby , or AIPAC , does that make me anti-semitic?

What happens when one day someone realises the religious and/or political and/or cultural background of another human being; should they recognise that?

To even say someone is Jewish; does that make me antisemitic?

Some will even say they know what I was thinking when I made that post.

I'm a seal

I went for a swim. Oh glorious water, sliding over my body like the slippery fingers of a svelte Swedish masseuse. I am built for the water. Well, built kinda like a fur seal is. Slightly hairy and a layer of blubber.

A rant - The War on Terror

I had this thought the other day.

So, the other day I realized more people died in one month in Iraq (3000 innocent souls) than everyone who died during 9/11. So why continue the fight? Retribution?

How can anyone justify the war going on over there? All up estimates range between 30,000 and 300,000 total deaths due to the occupation. There is even the possibility of 1 mill deaths due to American forces. Woah, crazy numbers.

And guess what? Saddam Hussein is guilty of killing... wait for it.... 143 people. And he's going to the gallows. (Please note: all figures I got from Wiki, so I was able to change them to suit my arguement (that was a joke.))

And what happened to bringing liberty, democracy, etc and other such wonderful western concepts?

So just as "the War on Terrorism" (war on a process) became "the War on Terror" (war on an etheral concept or state of being), the administration is no longer bringing such concepts as "democracy" to Iraq, just "stability and self governance".

Funny, there was probably alot of that "stability and self governance" crap going around in Iraq before the US came in and crapped everywhere....

Here endth my leftist rant....

Preparing for international success - USoA

I just dug this thread up from somewhere. God knows why I'm evening typing stuff here. I should be working. Or at least doing a better job of pretending that I'm working.

My work should involve writing a talk for an international conference on the brilliance of myself. It should start with

"Good evening, lesser beings of both gender. It is I. Yes, that's right, me. Ok, ok, you can stop clapping and cheering and stuff. There are things I want to say here tonight.

*sigh* Look people, if you want to bask in my glowing glory, that's ok, just try and be a little quiet about it so others can here me....yes, I have things I want to say.....well, if you all really liked me, wouldn't you be interested in what I had to say?....ok, fine, then you can all sit here and be noisey and basky and stuff, I'm going home, to where at least my flatmates will listen to me.

Seems like making a speech to the adoring masses might require more work that I first anticipated. Perhaps I'll just stick to crunching numbers and doing pretty graphs in Excel. At least my flatmates will still listen to me.

Still that same day...

Ach, I'm such a sad person, for someone who is so happy. Does that need translation? I'm cheery, and if I were looking into the window at myself, I'd condescendingly giggle at the ridiculous smile on my face. Which is there for no reason.

Then I'd wonder how I was hovering outside my window at work. Two stories up. I guess it's better than hoovering that up high. The walls don't have carpet on them outside. Strangely enough, there is carpet on the walls on the inside. Which makes hoovering the walls oh-so-much easier. And relavent.

Can one really giggle at one's own smile? Is that some kind of logical paradox, a conundrum wrapped in a paradox sooo tightly it creates a massive gravitational field that warps space-times-space, which creates a wormhole, that causes a loophole, which is fed through a eye-hole, of a storm, so that the whole world collapses in on itself and destroys the universe?

Or does it just give one hours of unadulterated innocent pleasure in front of the mirror?

Vote? I say 3-to-1 it's the other way. That's right, the other way.

The next day

I didn't even read that... thing I wrote before. Suffice to say, I'm sure it was sh*t, and I'm not going to read it again. Out of sight, out of sight.

The last post I read, by someone else by the way, now that, THAT was about me. So glad someone else can nail me better than me.

I feel soooooo much like a car wreck right now. I was going to stop posting, but bugger that. It's coffee-cig-B&S-dancing-my-office time. And THAT'S all about me.

Or also the janitor if he walks in on me.

Which band, I now wonder....

Life is like a simile, and yet it's actually a metaphor.

I came up with that quote. And I'm drawn to it because I was thinking of metaphors.

I don't get some people. Ok, sometimes I get them, an sometimes I don't. Sometimes you don't see them for a while, and they make these decisions, these judgements, that just don't make sense.

Yup, I'm talking about someone in particular. Hey, what else am I going to talk about here? The mafia?

I'm going to see a band in a few minutes. And the whole time I'm there listening to someone else's music, I'm going to try to pretend that I'm interested, and I'm not thinking about something else. Someone else.

I guess I'm kinda cut decisions were made for me, without me. No talking, discussion, nada.

Should I be angry? Dunno. Well, it aint no thrash metal band I'm listening to, so anger won't really be an option.

This is going to be more of a melancholy, remorseful gig. And me sitting in the centre of it and chain-smoking.

"F*ck this shit." That's a song by Belle and Sebastian. ANOTHER band I'm going to see alone. Or as alone as you can get surrounded by several hundred other screaming adoring fans.

F*ck the star-story. I got a thousand more where that came from. But, you know, you can have the story, or live with the story teller. And that's a decision for the reader to make.

And they're all amateur ornithologist at that. (J.D.Sal reference, for those beat and in the know)

The requisite office-place christian. Does anyone else get a little "shiver" when they walk into your office and ask if you're going to afternoon tea/coffee break?

I'm always worried on the way I'm going to get jumped by a group of Mormons, or Jehovahs' Witties, and they'll drag me into the office supply closet and question, nay, interrogate me as to "how I'm going" and "am I happy with my life at the moment" and "do I often find myself lonely, or wondering what it's all about".

Sure, of course, I do find myself asking those questions. It's just that I don't think giving up my Sunday morning sleep-in (hangover recovery period) is going to help.

Meanwhile, back in the broom closet , (location change) they'll be shining a spotlight into my eyes and asking me if "I believe in hell", and "would I like to have this free pamphlet that only requires a dollar donation".

Man, that christian guys is really starting to give me the willies. I'm going to go round to his cubicle and box his ears in.

The start of something good.

Someone once told me that reading over other peoples sholders' was rude. That was convienient for her; she had the fashion section and I'd finished the crossword. The shoe would have been on the other foot had she had the auto section and me with the funnies. But then I'd have to get out of bed earlier and beat her to the paper. And on a Saturday morning? She can have the glossy pull-out section.

Someone once also told me that to wish a wish upon a thousand stars is like spreading marmite on a piece of toast that already had marmalade on it. That person later that evening threw up on their own shoes, and that looked like marmalade on toast, with some marmite and carrot and stuff. So the jury is still out. It's a little Peter-Pan-ish, if you ask me. (and I noticed you didn't!)

Someone has also been telling people that I'm dating someone who may or maynot have something to do with something. If you know who you are, and you know what I'm talking about, then, fine, alright, it's true. That someone is involved in something. You don't need me to tell you.

If you're not that someone (and I pity you all the slightly less for it) then go forth and beat Merry. Pippin should have rocked that world, and don't get me started on the Ents. *sheesh*

Still crap though...

(upon re-reading that....)

Nope.

Reflection on previous crap.

Upon just posting and re-reading my last post, it's has one salvation. It is a little po-mo (read: postmodern), with the whole self-referrential stuff.

And that's kinda cool. Right? Right??

Crap

That.....was also crap.

I really need to reconsider why I put this stuff up here anyway. Am I satifying the egomaniacal self-assurance that everything I think is worthwhile reading.

I only know one guy who would think that. That I am worth reading about. I don't think he's that up himself ("up oneself" means "self-absorbed").

ooh, ooh, I know, perhaps he has so little self esteem, he has to read my shit, and he doesn't think anything he writes is worth a bunch. Oh no. That's terrible.

"Hang in there, lil' bro. I'll read anything you type."

(unless it's about his pot-plant, or his desk, or working too much. errgh, some people have no what makes good reading.)

Crap

Well, that was a whole lotta crap I just wrote. I wonder if anyone got through it all. Perhaps I should put little breaks in them. Kinda like

If you'd like to, now would be perfect time to go and make yourself I cup of tea.....

You know, break it up a little, mix it up, swirl it round, all dat.

This one is funny too...

I'm in a great mood. I've been working my arse off.

I went and saw Capote (it's pronounced Cap-pottie) and didn't get it. It was like Martin Scorsese's The Aviator without the special effects. There was a prick, who wrote a book, about some killers, who may have been gay, who may have liked one of them. okok, so if'd I'd finished In Cold Blood, or even started To Kill a Mockingbird I might of got it.

But it feels like the damn movie should have been put on cassette tape that came with the books... "and at the sounds of the shot-gun, please turn the page."

On the up side, my pot plant on the sill is doing fine. At work my desk is tidy now so I can actually see the coffee mug rings underneath.

Does anyone out there actually care about the state of my desk? I mean, you've (probably) all got your own, right? In various states of chaos? I wonder what you keep on them? Same stuff I do?

Maybe you've got one of those irritatingly cute little trolls from the 1980's, blue-tacked (sticky tack for Americans?) down.

And an old-style metal pencil sharpener.

I've got one of those. It's cool to just sit it on the desk. Especially when you've got a meeting. Just slide it out casually into the center of the table, or maybe just nonchalontly place it beside your bright pink pencil case during the board meeting. People notice these things like this, and they'll be saying to themselves "hey, this is the sort of guy (or girl) who has an old-style metal pencil sharpener."

But maybe you don't want that sort of reputation around the office place. People will talk, you know. You'll notice it; people stop talking or change the subject when you walk past them at the water cooler. You'll get overlooked for promotions.

Or sometimes officemates will just stare at you.

From outside your window.

At night.

While you're at home in bed.

With your partner....

I guess some people really need their pencil sharpened at some REALLY weird times.

Next thing you know you're name is scribbled on the back of the toilet stall with your mobile number and the words "for a good time with your pencil, call them." And your home phone will ring at 2am, and you'll answer it, and there will be heavy breathing and a sorta grunt, and you'll scream "f*ck off you sick bastard" and slam down the phone, and your partner will roll over and say "what was that?" and you'll say "nothing honey, wrong number, someone just wants to give me their pencil."

hmm, I've been noticing a strange vibe in the air at work recently. Perhaps it's best that things like that are kept under a pile of paper work.

This one's funny...

Ok. Guess where I am? You've got 5 chances. I thought about giving you 3, I think that's over estimating your ability to think outside the square. (woah, that's really confrontational, Daspee...why doncha just settle down a little?) Ok, you got 3. McDonalds? No. Burger King? Nope. (If you guess Subway next, I'll scream)

Ok, so I'm at work. It's 20 to 2. Am. What kinda freak am I? Perhaps this place aint so bad.

I mean, there IS a pot plant on the sill. Ha, I just remembered, pot plant is NOT what you think. It's just an or-din-ary plant, in a pot, on a sill. He (or perhaps she? I'm not botanist (nope, it's a he (I just asked him (if he's talking to me, perhaps he is of the pot variaty?))))... eh-hem, HE is probably on the only guy in the building who spends more time than me here. And probably does less work. Only just.

This is great, I'm afraid of being outsourced to a barely living being with no hands.

Nope, I'm not going to go down the track of comapring myself with a plant. And, no, it's not that I feel insecure. You can't tell me good, honest, hard-working people don't feel threatened by a tree in a nice suit. Probably went to law school. I bet his dad knows someone on the board. His dad probably is the board table. Arbour-hole.

I hope next time I'm in a better mood. Anyone got any bright ideas for a topic?

Bare-back mounting

Found out I didn't change the thread title. For a few hours there I was living in an blissful, over-inflated-ego bubble.

Apparently, I'm not that computer literate. I don't even get that joke about there being ten sort of people, where only two understand binary.....

Also, saw Brokeback Mounting.... hmmm, a couple of rodeo ring-riders, and I BAWLED my eyes out at the end. I saw it with Dark Fuschia. She has her own thread. I wonder if she wrote about it? If you want her opinion, I often find you've got to ask her for it. She wouldn't tell me. I hope she hasn't seen my profile picture.

I said what?!?

P.S. Who changed the thread title? Did I? I wish I had a better memory. Although it's often funny to find out the thing I actually said 5 days ago in a drunken stupor to an ex-flatmates' girlfriends' sisters' dog. Sometimes I can be quite funny. Sometimes.

I think the dog laughed.

I think.

Single socks.

Hmm, previous post seemed riddle with pessimism, so I'll qualify it with some other considerations.

eurgh, tried to type out a self-reflective query three times, but kept coming up with negative angles. I think I should go home to bed. What what will be there?

So, what's in Daspar's room?

Three guitars, each with a broken string; I guess I'm into low maintance musical equipment.

A bag full of single socks. Losers. Sucks to be single.

hmm... last statement was a little revealing so . Perhaps sleep is to stop us saying stupid stuff 24 hours a day. I guess I'm forced to say them for 14-18.

Comfort.

eh... been away for a while. In fact, I was away today at a beach. Went to two beaches. And here's what I realised.

For all my childhood spent surfing and swimming and playing around on pure white sand along cool wavey coasts under hot sunny suns (am I overdoing the adjectives?), I think they may have just lost the appeal. Sure. I'm typing this while at work at 1:30 am on a Saturday night/Sunday morning, but I looked out over the water today and thought 'yuck. I could be inside with a crossword and a coffee.'

I mean, the water wasn't that cold, and the little bits of sea-weed and blue-bottle jellyfish weren't getting at me, but it just didn't seem right.

Suffice to say, I'm moving to a different sort of outdoor activity; Camping. (Am I over doing the italics?) Would like to take a little wench I know out into the bush, armed with condensed-milk-and-coffee-in-a-tube, plenty of unhealthy snacks, a box of matches, a tent and a few packets of cigarettes, and while away a night or two under the stars with a camp fire.

Sounds good, right? Only problem is, I'm wondering if that current dream-date be destroyed by a heavy does of reality and mosquitoes? So I guess the only way I'll find out is to try, right? (am I overdoing the rhetorical questions?)

In sickness and inconsiderate

Does anyone know how to change the title of a thread? It has become rather annoying to click on "me" saying "howdy" everytime I want to add something here.

Am sick. Very sick. Kinda flu-like symptoms. I'm at a home, in a bed, and luckily someone is willing to look after me. Bless 'em. Bless you. Thanks you. I'll wipe that up later.

How weak can one feel when they are sick? Truly sick. Then they are molly-coddoled back to healthy, they are a new person, invigorated and bouncing out the door towards a fresh new day.

I wish I was that person. Or, at least, I wish that person would bring me back some OJ. And a box of fags....

I think you are a third person

Today I found myself talking about a person in that interesting "third" way, as if they weren't there. As usual, I made up a story about what they had ordered for breakfast, and how annoying it was. Which wasn't true. (well, they did order breakfast, but I wasn't fussed to what they ordered)

So I was criticizing someone for their breaky choices, in front of their face, without actually referring to them. It's strange how it takes so little for someone to become an a**hole. That someone being me. And the little being "having potato instead of mushrooms with eggs florentine".

I mean, I even LIKE potatoes.

You have won a stapler

It's 2am on Monday morning and I'm at work. I think I win the "first-one-to-work-on-a-Monday-morning" sweepstakes. Prize: all the stationary I can fit into my car. I think I want another stapler.

Uncomfortable beginnings

Well, this is my first post, and I'm not really too sure what should be said. A few unhelpful suggestions were shouted out to me by some friends before they ran out the door to go and play croquet... "write about you, write about what you're thinking..."

Ok, so I'm thinking that I don't work well under pressure. And also, it feels like you guys are watching me while I type this, or at least reading this over my shoulder. Which is quite an eerie feeling. I'm usually one who enjoys attention, but I guess there is a difference between telling a joke in a pub and typing into a blank computer screen sitting on a desk in a empty room while the sounds of someone making toast in the room next door filters in....

Furthermore, I can't wait to get home and curl up with some work. I LOVE my work. That's kinda sick, isn't it? Does anyone else spend Sunday afternoon just WAITING for Monday morning to come around?

Cheers,
Daspar